But Not For Me
by Ace Bullets
Summary: Based on 'Jumping At Shadows'. Mainly the POV of Joanne, Greg's ex-wife, and her thoughts about Dean re-connecting with his father as Dean returns to Dallas.


**A/N: Spoilers for 'Jumping At Shadows'. This is loosely based on what happened in that episode between Greg and Dean, and what might have happened after Dean returned to Dallas. Probably should be considered an A/U, since I do take certain liberties with timelines and so forth. Hope you enjoy, regardless.  
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**But Not For Me**

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Joanne waited impatiently at the Arrivals gate at Dallas Fort Worth International airport. The flight was on time and had just landed safely, according to the large display screen she'd been anxiously staring at for the past half-hour. Still, she tapped a restless foot and blew out a breath; arms folded tightly across her chest.

_It wasn't supposed to have been this way_, she reflected, her hazel eyes searching the newly disembarked passengers for the familiar mop of dark hair that belonged to her only son. _Dean never wanted to have anything to do with his father_; _was going to tell him once and for all that his parental rights were forfeit…_

But that's not what had happened the afternoon Dean had slyly sneaked off on his own to hash it out with his estranged father, Greg Parker.

Joanne absently ran a hand through her shoulder-length, brown hair. She cursed herself for even allowing the boy to have had that much freedom in a city he hadn't lived in for almost a decade. But she'd loosened the leash, thinking him to be mature enough and responsible enough; certainly never dreaming what would transpire in the hours he slipped away from her.

She didn't know whatever possessed Dean to boldly seek out her ex-husband that afternoon. She couldn't understand his reasoning or his motivation. Dean had absolutely _resented_ Greg for the rotten childhood he'd had due to the volatile combination of Greg-the-workaholic and Greg-the-alcoholic; was bitter for all the broken promises and drunken behaviour. Joanne had to admit it was a blessing that Greg had never once raised a hand against either her or their child, but he was a moody, brooding drunk who tended to push away those he loved. Dean, being a sensitive child, just couldn't understand why his father was rejecting him; why his father was so remote.

So it was a shock to the system when Dean tried to explain to her that he wanted to spend time with the man who had been emotionally abusive and absent and repulsive for a good portion of his life. This, after all, from the boy who had refused to open the door to the father who had flown 1200 miles just to see him not so long ago. Joanne had taken particular satisfaction in that rejection, knowing well Greg's fear of flying in planes; believing that perhaps now _he_ had a taste of what it was like to make the effort, only to have those hopes crushed by the other party.

"_He's different,_" Dean had said to her, after she'd cooled down from her apoplectic reaction when he'd returned from his clandestine visit to his father. "_You should have heard him on that call, mom… he was… well, he was pretty awesome. He's not at all like I remember him."_

_Well, that was nothing new_, Joanne thought with cynical hostility, _he always saved his best for the _job. Other people always mattered more to Gregory Parker. When he made it home after a long day on the job, emotionally drained and mentally spent, there was never anything left in reserve for her… or for Dean. And he ignored them and chose booze instead to try to fill that emotional void caused by the stresses of the job.

"_You don't get it, mom,_" Dean had almost pleaded. "_It's like he's a new person. He's sober. There wasn't even anything alcoholic at his place. I checked."_

_Okay, so he was back on the wagon_, Joanne thought sullenly, _but that didn't absolve him of his past sins. Not by a long shot._

"_I just think it would be cool to get to know him,_" Dean had said with a shrug. "_You know, man-to-man._"

Well, she'd nearly laughed at the absurdity of that statement. In spite of his casual tone and body language, Dean had been dead serious, even if his manner of expressing himself wasn't exactly adult in its presentation. He quite genuinely believed that the man who'd left them emotional refugees was worth getting to know.

"_He's just going to let you down,"_ she'd said in reply. It was a weak warning, but a heartfelt one. The last thing she wanted was to have Dean's spirits crushed again by the man who'd caused untold damage in the first place. It had taken the divorce and the escape to Dallas to remake herself; to heal the wounds of that failed marriage; to see Dean smile and hear his spontaneous laughter again. It had taken her this long to feel enough self-confidence to say 'yes' to another commitment, and the man she was now set to marry was a wonderful man who loved Dean as his own. _This_ man would never let her down, and would never let Dean down.

"_You're not being fair_," Dean had countered. _"You weren't even there. You didn't hear him. You didn't see him and talk to him."_

Joanne knew that once Dean got a notion in his head, he didn't easily back down. He got a determined look in his brown eyes – eyes he'd inherited from his father – and would be quite intractable.

So, she'd grudgingly relented.

"_Fine. You want to spend time with your father? Spend time with your father. I just don't want to have to say 'I told you so' when you finally find out he isn't the man you hope he is."_

The boy got his wish, spending a few extra days in his father's company; Joanne reluctantly letting him travel back to Dallas on his own. Now that his plane was back on U.S. soil, she didn't know what to expect.

"Mom!"

Dean's voice calling out to her snapped Joanne back to the present moment.

"Over here!"

The teenager was waving at her; his backpack slung over his shoulder.

One thing she loved about Dean was that he wasn't embarrassed about public displays of affection, and he greeted her with a big, warm hug. It didn't matter to him that hundreds of people were milling about who could possibly witness him embracing this middle-aged woman; he was happy to see her and wouldn't hold back his love for her.

She planted a kiss on his cheek and felt relief that he was finally _home_ with her. _Where he belongs_, she thought with fervour, as they began making their way to the parking lot. Though she was dying of curiosity, she refrained from peppering the boy with questions about his extended Toronto trip.

Still, those unspoken questions ping-ponged through her brain, refusing to give her any peace: _How were things between him and Greg? Did Dean still harbor a silly desire to foster a relationship with him? Or had he come to the conclusion she had come to long ago that life was simply better off without Greg? That Greg would never really change; that Greg would only ultimately disappoint them all in the end? _

But Dean kept his counsel for a good ten minutes into the drive out to the suburbs where they lived with Joanne's soon-to-be husband and Dean's soon-to-be legal father.

She was itching to ask _something_; anything to break the silence, so she began with a neutral question:

"Do you want the radio on?"

Dean shook his head. "It's okay. The movie they were showing was stupid, so I listened to my iPod for the whole flight. Enough music for one day."

"Okay," she replied in a casual tone. "But the flight was okay, apart from the 'stupid movie'?"

"Yeah," Dean said, noncommittally. There was a slight frown on his face as he glanced out the passenger-side window. There was a long pause before he spoke again. "How come you never told me dad was afraid of flying?"

She sent him a brief, sideways glance. "What do you mean?"

"Dad told me it's like his biggest phobia, ever. He described it like getting inside a flying, metal coffin."

Joanne frowned uncomfortably. "It just really never came up, Dean…"

"It's just that… you know… if I'd known how much he hates it… I might've given him a chance that time he came down." The boy seemed distressed, and Joanne heard the self-recrimination in his voice.

Joanne's frown turned to a scowl. "Is that what your father did the entire time you were there? Take you on a guilt trip for not opening up the door to him? Unbelievable!"

"No, it wasn't like that," Dean replied hastily; defensively. "Dad just said he admired me for flying back all by myself… that he barely had the guts to do it when he came down. He said he white-knuckled it the whole way so bad that his hands cramped. It wasn't about making me feel guilty. It was only when the plane lifted off that I realised how much of a big deal it must have been for him to do that."

"Oh, no, you don't get it, Dean," Joanne blurted out in frustration. "That's _exactly_ the way he lays on a guilt trip. Passive-aggressive behavior is his forte!"

Dean stared at her and shook his head in disbelief. "Wow, mom…"

She huffed and bit her tongue to keep from following up her comment with another rant, but already her mind was filling with dark thoughts about the way Dean's visit with Greg must have gone.

"Dad actually seemed really, really happy to have me spend some time with him. Relieved, even, that I wanted to," Dean commented when Joanne's extended silence seemed to offer him an invitation to continue.

"Oh?" she asked, not bothering to mask her skepticism.

"Yeah," Dean struck back with a sharp, defensive tone. "He said that he never expected me – or you – to ever forgive him for what happened. He knows he hurt us, mom. But he's put himself back together. What he does on his job… it's great. He's in charge. He's _responsible_. He saves lives."

Joanne shifted her eyes momentarily from the road to Dean and back again. The boy's eyes were shining. She couldn't miss the admiration and awe in Dean's voice as he related what transpired during a particular call he'd heard involving a family endangered in what became a city-wide search-and-rescue operation.

"Mom," Dean said softly, "dad's a _good guy_… his whole team looks up to him. They _respect_ him. If you don't want to believe me that he's different now, then that's your loss."

Her heart gave an odd twang, and she swallowed a lump in her throat.

"We had dinner at a nice restaurant last night even when he could have spent it out with some of his pals from the force," Dean went on. "He wanted to hear all about me; how school's been; when I broke my arm; stuff like that … And he really _listened_ to me. He was… he was acting like a really great father should."

With her lips pursed, Joanne maintained her silence and gave a curt nod just to let Dean know she was still listening. But her heart continued to shrink within her, battling with the position that a second chance with Dean was undeserved, and the position that Dean might have actually had some positive interactions with Greg.

"He didn't lecture or anything like that… but he just let me say what I wanted to say. I kinda let him have it at one point, too," Dean said, with a hint of discomfiture. "Everything I ever wanted to say from when we were still living there sort of all came out. All the bad stuff I remember; all the hurt… Mom, he _cried._ He actually cried, right there in the restaurant."

_Tears_… Joanne reflected_, the one thing Greg was determined never to show me while we were still married…_ Oh, he'd shown sorrow and sadness; regret, even, back when he was still in the early stages of his alcoholism and would swear he would change… when he'd be apologetic that he came home too late or that he had to miss that school recital because of that extra shift he had to work… but he'd never break down and cry in front of her. _Never_. Not even when begging for forgiveness or for a second chance did he shed a tear.

Dean wasn't finished. "It was so bad, he had to excuse himself. He was literally falling apart in the Men's room when I followed him to make sure he was okay.

"Mom, he never thought he'd get a chance to see me again. All this time, he just wanted me to know he still cared about me, even if he didn't think he deserved a second shot at being my father. But you know what? I think I'd like to give him that second shot."

"You would?" Joanne asked in spite of herself, as she turned the vehicle onto the side-street that led to their residence.

"Yeah, I would…" Dean trailed off, not knowing how to gauge his mother's reaction. "Is that okay with you? I mean, you said he'd only disappoint me, but he didn't. He's really sorry for what happened; I know he is. Everything he did after we left proves he's not the guy he was back then."

Joanne pulled the car up the driveway and parked in front of the house. The remnants of heartaches of old seemed to cast long shadows as she considered Dean's request.

_So, Greg truly wants to be able to have a relationship with our son_, Joanne mused, and _Dean wants the same. _

"Well, it sounds like the two of you have really made your peace with each other," she said in a failed attempt to sound gracious. _You shed tears over your failed relationship with our son,_ she thought.

"We did," Dean responded with a nod.

"If that's what you really want, Dean…" Joanne mumbled, trying to tamp down the rancour that came surging to the fore from an unexpected source deep inside her. _You shed tears for our son_, she repeated to herself, _he reached out to you, and now you want to re-connect with him… But what about _me_, Greg, _she questioned with fierce, unrelenting bitterness. _Where are the tears for me?_

"Thanks, mom," Dean replied with a huge grin. "Dad wasn't sure you'd be cool with it, but I knew you'd understand."

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**END**


End file.
